


got me some type of way

by tanyart



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Mistaken Identity, Rimming, SOTD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-04-07 07:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19080454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: The Drifter goes looking for a one night stand and meets a hot young thing at the bar. (Yeah, right.)





	got me some type of way

**Author's Note:**

> ShinDrift Week - Day 4: Tempt. 
> 
> Thank you forbidden twitter for letting me indulge in the possibility of Drifter/Orsa. Also, we're all going to pretend Drifter doesn't know Orsa = Vale. Thank you.
> 
> Also check out Fish's drawings of Shin, which was what I kept in mind when thinking about Orsa's look: [here](https://twitter.com/clashingshaders/status/1133124318987268098).

 

Drifter knew the bar at the Emerald Coast was nothing special but it was near one of Shaxx’s Crucible arenas — and, coincidentally, _his_ Gambit ring — so it was a popular spot late at night. He went in not expecting too much, but right away he’d caught the eye of some kid at the counter. When Drifter spared a second glance, he found that it was well worth the effort.

The kid looked to be some bright-eyed and fresh-faced Hunter Drifter would’ve pegged for newly risen if it hadn’t been for the high-end Crucible armor. The newborn Guardians never did have that kind of fashion sense straight away _or_ the glimmer for it. This guy looked like he had both, and the easy self-assured demeanor also spoke volumes about him; a sly hitch at the corner of his mouth, his relaxed lean against the bar, the lazy way his head tipped to one side... All that said more than any custom shader or fancy armor could.

And while it was obvious the Hunter was probably a monster in the Crucible, the way his hair was carefully slicked back and smooth face made-up neat — it was clear he wasn’t looking for a fight tonight. Unless he was into that kind of thing.

Drifter was sure he could ask and get an answer with a wink.

He caught the kid staring again and it didn’t take long for Drifter to slide up to the bar and buy the Hunter a drink.

“Hey, saw you looking,” Drifter said, mirroring the way he was leaning against the counter . “See something you like?”

The Hunter had watched him make his way, but there was a flash of surprise in his expression when Drifter spoke. Drifter didn’t know why the kid was taken aback by the attention. Sure looked like he was chasing after it, with the faint wet shine on his lips and a touch of red pigment at his eyes to highlight his dark lashes — no one put in the effort of looking _that_ pretty to get ignored at the bar.

The Hunter didn’t say anything for a second, half distracted when the bartender set down Drifter’s drinks — two shots of whiskey, quick to get down and left room for more. His gaze flicked back to Drifter, giving him the up and down. At Drifter’s answering leer, the Hunter took one of the glasses and downed it in one decisive go. Then he treated Drifter to a dangerous grin that got Drifter’s gut curling in anticipation.

The Hunter’s voice was low, smooth as the drink Drifter took up. He set the empty glass down. “Could use a closer look.”

And, damn, could he flirt like a motherfucker too. The Hunter was all dark smiles and glittering eyes, edging closer and closer to Drifter as they chatted.

“Orsa,” Drifter said, catching the Crucible scoreboards. A large projection was showing a replay of a shutdown — by none other than the Hunter, his name flashing across the screen. He turned back around. “You handy with other things than a gun?”

“I’d like to imagine so,” Orsa murmured. The unsubtle touch at Drifter’s belts made it clear he wasn’t aiming to be modest about it.

Drifter could take the hint. The conversation didn’t taper off but they did get going, and Orsa clung on him like glue all the way up to Drifter’s new SCRAP ship. He didn’t ask for Drifter’s name either, which was more than fine by him. Matter of fact, it probably made Drifter warm up to him even more. Clearly Orsa was a no-questions type of guy, and Drifter could appreciate that.

As the transmat dropped them inside his ship, Orsa’s weapons started to disappear from their holsters, probably back into his vault. _Polite_. Drifter thought about bringing up Gambit, get him interested in something other than the Crucible, but Orsa started pushing him towards the bed, eyes gleaming with unabashed want, and Drifter decided business could wait.

They made it easy on each other. Drifter grinned all the way as he stepped backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed frame — even surprised himself with how much he wanted this kid to have his way with him. Orsa seemed to sense it too, giving Drifter a nudge, more to tease than to control. When Drifter sat down on the bed, Orsa pressed him the rest of the way down into the mattress and wasted no time crawling all over him.

It turned out Orsa was an expert at getting just enough clothes off to keep things interesting. Drifter was treated to a series of enthusiastic kisses as Orsa undid the front of his robes, pulling away Drifter’s belts with ease while Drifter shoved his tongue into his mouth.

And it really did feel like Orsa was treating him, all gentleman-like and everything. Drifter rose up on one elbow, catching at the clasp of Orsa’s cloak and armor, breaking from the kiss to glance down to see how he could return the favor of getting Orsa undressed. The pause didn’t last long — Orsa nudged Drifter back down with a playful nip at his jaw while he pulled off the armor himself, like he was happy to do all of the work, so long as Drifter stayed on his back.

Which was fine by Drifter. He relished the feeling of relaxing under someone else’s hands exploring over his chest, groping, squeezing, taking extra care to rub a thumb over Drifter’s nipple after the first time he’d let out a sharp inhale. It wasn’t like being a ball of nerves when he was tumbling around with Shin Malphur, anxiety churning in his gut even when he was hot for it.

Not that he was thinking about Shin Malphur _now_. Orsa made it plenty difficult to concentrate on anything that wasn’t his hips grinding against his. Drifter grinned at the quiet laugh in his ear, and Drifter rolled his hips up just to hear Orsa’s laughter stutter into a moan.

Orsa suddenly sat up, though he’d been tugging away at Drifter’s pants beforehand so Drifter knew what the guy wanted.

“May I?” Orsa asked, scooting lower in the bed, a palm cupping one side of Drifter’s ass. He pressed his thumb low, rubbing the fabric of Drifter’s pants.

It was a real sweet thing to ask when the answer was obvious. Drifter kicked off his boots, got help from Orsa, and wiggled out of his pants so that Orsa didn’t have to keep teasing him through the fabric.

“Anything you want, hotshot. You want me to roll over?” Drifter asked, and delighted with the way Orsa’s eyes widened, just a little bit.

“Nah,” Orsa said, recovering fast. He got his hands under Drifter’s knees, pushing them upwards, and flashed him a grin, charmingly cocky. “I got this.”

Drifter thought Orsa probably had it from the get-go, but he wasn’t going to waste words pointing it out, especially when Orsa looked at Drifter’s erection like it was something he wanted in his mouth. Drifter hoped to hell he didn’t look too pleading, but Orsa dipped his head down lower, steady hands spreading Drifter’s thighs apart.

Drifter gave a small jump when he felt Orsa’s tongue at his entrance. It really shouldn’t be all that surprising — but what a pretty face doing something so fucking filthy. He thought about smeared lips and ruined eyeshadow, and his cock twitched from imagining it. Orsa wasn’t shy about it either, pushing in deeper the more breathy Drifter got, and lapped around him until Drifter’s toes curled and he strained his hips up for more.

Orsa pulled away, panting. From how he was laying, Drifter could only see the top of his head.

“Oh, fuck, why’d you stop?” Drifter groaned, and he could only be proud that he wasn’t quite begging. Yet.

Orsa nipped at his ass, teeth digging down hard before soothing the sting with a lick, and it was enough to turn Drifter’s complaint into a hiss. After a moment, Drifter could hear Orsa undoing his own pants, one hand still planted on Drifter’s thigh to keep him still. _Ah._ Well. That, he could allow.

Thankfully, Orsa didn’t keep him hanging for long. A wet finger pressed into him, eased in by the work of spit and some other slippery lube Orsa probably kept in his pockets. Drifter sighed in relief, rocking into the touch to help things along, and mostly because he couldn’t help himself. He figured Orsa’s mouth was tired from all that enthusiastic tongue work, which was a damn shame since he was so good at it.

Orsa peered over, dropping Drifter’s legs. His fingers were still working into him, slow and steady, and Drifter could’ve writhed in the bed, but he clutched at the sheets instead. His cock felt neglected, beads of precome dripping down its length.

Orsa eyed it hungrily, and the heat shot down to Drifter’s already aching dick. Maybe Orsa _wasn’t_ tired of using his mouth.

Drifter found himself staring, watching as Orsa licked his lips and dipped his head down.

Orsa’s mussed up hair fell over his eyes, and at that moment Drifter felt the wires cross in his brain. It was more than an overactive imagination — Drifter swore he saw Shin between his legs.

His moan stuck to his throat, caught between warring sensations of arousal and gnawing suspicion.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Drifter breathed, half out of want and half from sheer confusion. His hips jerked into Orsa’s mouth.

Orsa glanced up at him from his long lashes, eyes hot and intent, mouth stretched around his cock, and all Drifter saw was Shin. He blinked as Orsa pulled off him with a satisfied rumble, felt a too-soft kiss at his inner thigh, and that small gesture sealed it.

No way, _no way_ —

Drifter snapped his legs shut, almost putting Shin in a headlock with how fast he moved. He scrambled back, squawking, “ _Shin?_ ”

It was a miracle he hadn’t kicked Shin in the face, or that Shin hadn’t bitten his dick off.

“What?” Shin sat up, a sidearm appearing in his hand. He seemed to expect to shoot something. With the way Drifter sounded, maybe he was in the right. He glanced around the room, possibly for enemies. After a puzzled second, he looked down at Drifter. “What’s wrong?”

Drifter was busy pulling his pants back up with shaky hands. His mind was reeling, going a thousand miles a minute and not stopping. What the fuck? _What the fuck?_ “You bastard, how many secret identities you got out there?”

Shin stared at him, uncomprehending, but as the gears started to turn his expression shifted into something incredulous. He opened his mouth, shut it, breathed, and opened his mouth again, “I thought you knew it was me!”

Everything made horrific sense, now that Drifter’s dick was no longer in control. It sure did explain how quick they got into bed together, and why Orsa never asked for a name, or seemed to know exactly what to do. Drifter stopped fussing with his pants. Belts were beyond him at the moment. “Well, I didn’t! What the fuck, Shin? Leading me on and not sayin’ anything?”

“I thought—you were,” Shin croaked, turning red. “—playing along. Pretending you didn’t know.” Then he bristled, “You came to _me_. You got _me_ the drink.”

Drifter sputtered. He didn’t have an answer for that, and he sure as fuck didn’t want to admit that he’d been suckered in by a pretty face, now that he knew that face was Shin’s. He scooted further up the bed, trying to get more distance away. “You’re a _nightmare_ , you know that right?”

All his scooting didn’t really matter. Shin stayed at the foot of the bed, too stunned to move. “You really didn’t recognize me?”

“You look like shit most of the time. Not like—” Drifter began, gesturing up and down. With his hair all messed up and expression turned sour, Shin looked a little more like himself. And now that Drifter was looking for it, he noticed that Shin had hid the dark circles under his eyes with that little bit of makeup. Shaved too, jaw smooth with no shadow of an overgrown stubble. That bastard cleaned up way too nice for Drifter’s peace of mind. He hissed, “Not like _this_.”

Shin scowled, but Drifter couldn’t even enjoy Shin being embarrassed. He was just upset, tricked _again_. For the second time! And Shin hadn’t even meant it this time around.

Drifter glared at him, but Shin only ignored him in favor of fixing the hair out of his eyes, strands stiff from whatever product he used to keep it neat. The change was immediate, opening up Shin’s face at new angles Drifter had never considered. And shit, did it get him all mad and heated up again, nothing but _offended_.

“So what’s the deal?” Drifter demanded. “Which one of yous is real? You act like sad grimmdark bastard ‘round me then you leave and spend the rest of the day all dolled up at the bar, _Orsa_?”

Shin sat up higher. “ _That_ ain’t me,” he said with enough ruefulness that Drifter could’ve believed him, “Not really.” His voice dropped into a mutter, hand coming up to wipe his mouth, “Figured you wouldn’t’ve appreciated flirtin’ from Shin Malphur anyway.”

Drifter stared long and hard at Shin. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Shin sounded sulky. He grunted, ignoring the glossy sheen smearing across Shin’s bottom lip. Shin? Being sociable and flirting? “Yeah, no thanks.”

It was almost too much to believe. Hell, Drifter still wasn’t sure which one of Shin’s personas were real. Orsa had a wickedness in him that Shin didn’t show, or didn’t _want_ to show. And Orsa was frivlious too, Drifter thought to himself, eyeing the bright twinkle of piercings along the ridge of Shin’s ear. It wasn’t a huge wonder why he’d been fooled. Where Shin was rugged and solemn, Orsa was all pretty shine and charm. That made for a good disguise, more than just the clothes and armor.

Besides, they acted different in bed. Orsa’d been a little more willing to let Drifter stay on his back, and seemed like the type to let Drifter with his ass up. Unlike Shin. And Orsa was less pushy about it too. He was fun, _wanted_ to have fun, and if that was only an act, it was a damn good one.

Drifter dragged a hand down his face. He thought about Orsa’s mouth on him again, fingers in him. Okay, so some traits _did_ overlap, no matter how good Shin was at pretending to be someone else.

 _Ah, fuck._ For some sick reason, Drifter wanted to find out just far those differences went, or if Shin and Orsa were really just one and the same. Probably had to do a lot with his cock still expecting some action.

Drifter shifted, letting his legs get within touching distance of Shin. It didn’t take long for Shin to notice.

“So,” Drifter said, clearing his throat. He nudged Shin with his foot. “What would Orsa have done?”

Shin caught his ankle, lifting it slightly. His eyes were dark.

“Reckon he would’ve kept eating you out,” he growled and moved to yank Drifter back down.

Drifter blinked, suddenly on his back and looking at the ceiling. Well. _Alright._

Against all odds, it didn’t take long for them to pick up where they left off. If Drifter had enough of his brains knocking around his head nat the time, he would’ve thought it was _because_ of the odds.

Shin had Drifter’s legs over his shoulders, hitching Drifter’s entire body higher, arms wrapped across Drifter’s chest to better bury his nose between Drifter’s ass. Drifer gasped and cursed through the whole thing, no longer watching his mouth. It felt like he was practically curling over himself, knees almost touching his shoulders, his own cock dripping down his stomach and getting wet lines of precome over his chest every time he arched into Shin’s tongue.

His fingers dug into the mattress to keep still. He didn’t think he come like this, but he was so close from just Shin’s mouth working over his entrance and the fervent way Shin took from him, responding with more indulgent licks and thrusts inside the louder Drifter got.

“ _Shin_ ,” Drifter choked, forgetting he was supposed to say a different name, or maybe not any name — and then he was violently shoved off the edge from Shin’s hand wrapping around his cock and Shin’s sloppy mouth around his ass, no grace to it at all.

Drifter’s entire body went rigid, voice shaking over a wordless noise, and he came hard all over himself. Shin had his thighs so far up, most of the mess shot down at his stomach and chest, and was still dripping onto him even after Shin let go of his twitching cock.

Drifter groaned, going limp under Shin’s hold, and groaned again as Shin lowered his legs back on the bed. It was a lucky thing nothing cramped up, but he was still riding on the aftershocks of a great orgasm, he doubt stiff legs could take away having his ass thoroughly eaten out from him.

Shin crawled over him, looking like a fine wreck. Hair wild, cheeks flushed, lips shining more from spit than gloss, still hard. It was an obscene version of the charming little thing from the bar, and despite Drifter’s screaming instincts to shut himself up — there was no denying Orsa was still just as wickedly pretty.

Drifter beckoned him closer, until Shin was sitting lightly over his stomach. Shin was eyeing the mess on his chest, avoiding the spot, but something in his gaze seemed… interested. _Intent._ With the way Orsa had played his hands over his chest, maybe Drifter shouldn’t be too surprised.

Drifter took Shin’s cock in his hand, wetting his fingers from what was dripping from the tip. Shin moved at his touch, panting and wanting to just jerk into his hold, but Drifter used his free hand to guide Shin’s hips a little higher, and when that wasn’t enough, he kissed at Shin’s collar until Shin was on his hands and knees, cock dragging heavy over Drifter’s chest.

“Kinda wondering if Orsa’ll like this,” Drifter taunted, voice sugar sweet.

Shin was too far gone to play or bite back. “Yes,” he breathed, shallowly thrusting between Drifter’s pecs, chest already slippery from when Drifter had came. “ _Yes_.”

Maybe it was a Shin thing too — could’ve been the chattiest he ever got with Drifter, giving off exhilarated little shivers and moans when Drifter kept his hand around his dripping cock to keep it in place. Drifter got to listen to Shin fumble deliriously over his words, letting him rub all over his wet chest.

It must’ve been a personal fantasy with how hard and fast Shin came. Drifter didn’t even have time to get his mouth over Shin’s cock when Shin let out a choked noise, had to let the come land in his beard and over his cheek. The state of his chest wasn’t even worth mentioning, but damn it was worth Shin’s happily dazed expression.

Besides,Shin wasn’t one to leave him messy. He dropped to his elbows, licking Drifter up, cleaning most of the come from his face, and kissed off the rest. Between the messes they both made on him, there was a lot of kissing.

“Shit,” Drifter wheezed once they were through.

“Mm,” Shin mumbled, pulling up a rumpled corner of the bedsheet.

“Orsa’s one nasty sonuvabitch,” Drifter decided, exhausted and unmoving as Shin wiped his front.

Shin glanced at him. All the makeup had come off thanks to all the kissing, and Drifter doubt the slicked back hair could be recovered for the rest of the night. “Heard he hangs ‘round the same bar sometimes.”

Drifter sighed, flopping further into the bed.

“Might have to buy him another drink.”


End file.
